


A Family Affair

by chrissy_sky, TerraTenshi



Series: Rescue Tim [8]
Category: Batman Beyond, DCU - Comicverse, Smallville
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrissy_sky/pseuds/chrissy_sky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraTenshi/pseuds/TerraTenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conner meets Tim Drake for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Family Affair

**Author's Note:**

> An alternative take on how Conner and Tim meet in our ‘verse. In between Hawaii and working with Tim and Bart the first time, Conner instead began living with Lex and Jason. Tim was still working mainly with Batman when the Joker kidnapped him. Of course, since this is an AU of the comics and the DCAU, the timeline might seem a bit weird in some parts as we continue to figure it out ourselves.
> 
> Also, additional warning for Superman being a jerk. (Re: We do focus a little more on Clark in Smallville canon, which we feel as a less than true characterization of Superman.)

~~~

 

_Three years ago…_

 

His first memories, though implanted, were of Superman and of his great deeds since coming out as the protector of Earth. When he woke up, those borrowed memories were all he had. Kon-El admired the full Kryptonian so much and tried his hardest to be like him. Even though he made mistakes, he still tried. Clark was half of the genes the scientists at Cadmus had used in creating him, after all. Kon tried to remember that he came from someone who was the epitome of goodness, the paragon of morality, and not think of where the other half of his genes came from.

 

Despite how often Green Arrow liked to remind everyone, Kon’s unique parentage did not make him evil.

 

So watching Clark fly away from him, Kon’s breaking heart felt a lot worse than his sore muscles and bruises. Well, almost. Superboy was just no competition for Super _man._

 

Kon flew in the opposite direction, aimless and teetering almost drunkenly, until he sat himself on a ledge of a nameless skyscraper. He stared out at Metropolis, the city he tried so hard to protect, and had almost monumentally let down.

 

Superman was right to punish him. Kon could have gotten people killed today. He was a failure. He didn’t deserve to wear the symbol of the House of El.

 

His shirt was already torn. Kon easily ripped the rest of the front off and let the black and red material fly away on the wind. Part of him knew it was melodramatic, and it didn’t make him feel any better. He just wanted to curl up and cry.

 

He was completely alone. Just a freak grown in a test tube in some lab. Nobody wanted him and nobody cared.

 

-

 

Within minutes of the fight happening, Lex was watching the footage from various security cameras across the city. Again, there was more property damage; some to buildings he owned, but most weren’t. It wasn’t a deliberate attack. It was a grown man beating up a teenager for a simple mistake that the grown man had committed a thousand times, when he still lived in a small Kansas town.

 

Perhaps Clark didn’t remember, or was too self-righteous to, but Lex remembered. Lex had the video footage in his private Clark Kent collection.

 

Lex didn’t feel betrayed by Clark’s treatment of their son. He had long ago moved on from that. All he felt now was annoyance, as though Superman was some overlarge, super-powered insect. Or a bully.  

 

“Mercy, cancel my appointments for the rest of the day.”

 

“Yes, sir,” the woman dutifully responded. “I have the chopper on standby.”

 

Lex stood, shedding his suit jacket and tie before he headed for the roof in fluid, quick steps. He could imagine how Kon was feeling now, for he had been betrayed by the people he had attached himself too emotionally. Neither had been especially healthy. His father had tried to kill him more than once, and no matter what he tried, Clark could never truly look passed his last name. He thought Clark could be his friend, see him for who he really was, but instead the teenager only listened to Jonathan Kent’s bigotry.

 

And now that Superman was obviously losing interest in the boy, Lex was taking back _what was his._

 

-

 

Kon looked up long enough to identify the approaching helicopter as belonging to LexCorp. He returned his attention back to the city as it landed not far away from where he sat.

 

“Kon,” said a confident male voice he barely recognized.

 

It wasn’t like he’d ever spoken to the man before, but he’d been on TV a lot, so…

 

“Come to kill the failure?” Kon asked, feeling apathetic about the prospect.

 

Expensive shoes stopped nearby. They were shiny. “Why would you say that?”

 

“That's what I am, isn't it? I failed. I'm no hero.” It felt so hollow saying it out loud. He wished there was someone who cared enough to argue. He doubted that person was Lex Luthor.

 

The man sighed and sat down beside him, as if he weren’t the fourth richest man in the world and hung out on top of dirty skyscrapers all the time, getting dirt and pigeon poop on his Armani suit.

 

“You’re a teenage boy.”

 

Kon scoffed, his voice wet. “No, I'm not. I'm a freak. And he hates me.” He barely choked back a sob. “He _hates_ me. He says I'm not a Kent. I'm not his son.”

 

“Kon,” said the man, firmly.

 

“That’s not my name,” Kon said sadly. “He said he shouldn’t have given it to me. I don’t have a name.”

 

He could still hear Clark shouting these things to him, as he hit him. Kon had begged him to stop, but Clark’s eyes had glowed red with fury.

 

“That's true,” said Luthor in a strangely thoughtful voice. “I had trouble picking one and then daddy dearest had you moved to Cadmus and I lost the opportunity.”

 

Kon whirled on him in surprise. “You wanted to _name_ me?” he asked in disbelief.

 

Luthor nodded, his eyes on the skyline, sharp and intense. “You don't know how you were born, do you?”

 

“I don't remember much of that,” Kon admitted. “Just when the JLU found me.”

 

The bald man nodded again. “I'm what's called a meteor mutant back in my hometown; meaning that my DNA was mutated by radiation during the Kryptonite meteor shower that accompanied Superman's arrival on Earth.”

 

Kon nodded hesitantly. “Clark said that's how you lost your hair.” He wasn’t sure how Luthor would react to knowing his enemy talked about him. It wasn’t often and usually was nothing pleasant. Then Ollie would join in, make a joke of it, and some of the others would laugh.

 

And Batman would stare at the cloned teen with hard, hard eyes.

 

“It is. When I was younger, before my mutation stabilized, it looked as though I was sterile. Since I wanted children, I put some of my companies’ funding into researching procreation through cloning.”

 

Kon stared, his heart beating faster with a wild hope. He _wanted_ someone to tell him he wasn’t just a science project of some evil organization. A tool that was intended to destroy. He wanted to believe that so desperately.

 

“They tried combinations from various volunteers; in the end it turned out that Clark Kent's DNA mutation counteracted mine.”

 

“He said it was because you were obsessed with him,” Kon said softly.

 

Luthor’s lips twitched in a sad sort of amusement. “Obsessed... I suppose that's a valid complaint.” His voice softened for a moment, but Kon could still hear him clearly over the strong wind. "Truth be told, I was in love with him, but at the time I didn't know who your other donor was; I just knew that they'd managed to create an embryo.”

 

Somehow that made Kon very sad, but not for himself. He felt bad for Luthor’s sake. The teen couldn’t imagine how terrible it was to love someone who hated you, then find out they might be the only person you could have children with. “Kinda sad and ironic.”

 

“Indeed. As you grew there was some discussion about implanting you into a surrogate. Unfortunately I didn't trust anyone but myself. I thought you'd be safer in the lab.”

 

Surprising the teen, he reached out and touched Kon’s cheek. His hand wasn’t cold or inhuman. It was warm, kind, and Kon leaned into it, feeling starved for any affection. Even if it was Luthor.

 

“I used to come read to you.”

 

Kon’s eyes felt hot. “I don’t remember,” he said regretfully.

 

“I suppose you wouldn’t.” His face darkened, the hand fell away. “One day when you were only six months old, there was what appeared to be a break-in. The labs were trashed, research was missing or destroyed. I thought you were dead.”

 

“Who did it?”

 

“I’m not sure. Later I found out that Lionel, my father, ascertained who your other donor was. He thought something was... _different_ about Clark. He stole you and took you to Cadmus labs.”

 

A dim memory emerged. He remembered so little from that time, apart from the implanted memories, but sometimes he got flashes of things he couldn’t explain. “Did he have long, curly hair?”

 

Luthor seemed surprised at first, then he gave a weird, rueful half-smile. “It figures _that_ would be what you remembered. Yes, that was my father.”

 

Kon nodded. “Bad man.”

 

The man’s eyes narrowed, bright and dangerous. “What did he do?”

 

“It's... hard to remember. He wanted some of my blood, I guess? I remember kryptonite being brought in. And lots of pain.”

 

Luthor growled, startling Kon who turned to look at him. Lex cleared his throat in a way that on anyone else would have been sheepish. "That'd be daddy dearest. Speaking of which, I really should call and make sure he's getting his regular prostate exams," he winked, "very important for a man his age, you know. And then maybe I'll see about moving him. I hear some very nice things about the hippy commune rest homes in Seattle."

 

It was weirdly touching, though Kon wasn’t naïve enough to think it was just over him. He smiled weakly. “I’m okay now. Aside from not being a real boy.”

 

“You _are_ a real boy, my son,” Luthor said firmly, making Kon flush happily. “I should have claimed you when I first discovered who you were. I thought you'd be more comfortable with someone who understood your abilities.”

 

Kon shrugged uneasily. “He left me in Kansas for awhile, but I didn't like high school so I came back. We don't really talk much unless I fuck up.”

 

“Is what just happened considered ‘talking?’” Luthor asked skeptically, still looking mad.

 

“Well, kinda. The rest of the time he can hardly look at me, let alone be in the same room with me. Nothing I've done has ever been good enough.”

 

“It’s time for you to come home then,” the man said firmly.

 

Kon looked at him in confusion. “Home?”

 

“With me. You have a little sister and brother who'd like to meet you.”

 

A home, siblings. A father who actually wanted him. It seemed too good to be true.

 

“You’re not how Clark and Green Arrow describe you... I thought about trying to talk to you before, but I was afraid. With Clark the way he is, I thought you'd just treat me the same way. Or worse.”

 

Luthor snorted, an undignified and human sound. “And now?”

 

Underneath that confidence, though, Kon thought he saw some uncertainty in Luthor too. Was the man afraid he would turn down his offer? Of course, that was what Clark had done, wasn’t it? He’d even bragged about it, in that sanctimonious, I-know-better-than-you way.

 

“I’d like to come with you,” Kon said shyly. “If you want me.”

 

Lex stood fluidly. He offered Kon his gloved hand. “Come on then.”

 

Kon took the offered hand, but rose with his own strength. He was kind of huge for his age and he always had to be aware of how he could hurt regular mortals.

 

He squeezed into the helicopter with Lex and his bodyguards, which took them straight to Gotham. Leaving Metropolis, Kon felt a weight lift off his large shoulders. He looked forward to meeting his siblings and creating a new life for himself, letting go of the pain his reluctant super-father had caused. There was no guarantee that this would work out, but he had hope.

 

He saw that same hope shine in Lex’s eyes and it made him happy.

 

-

 

He got a new name, a family made up of a father, a tiny sister and brother that looked up to him, and many friends known as The Outlaws. He also had a stepmother, but she didn’t stay too long, and then eventually, a stepfather.

 

Kon—now Conner—had smiled the morning he’d walked in on Jason and Lex cuddling. They tried to pull away and pretend they totally weren’t, but he knew, and smiled, and told them, “It’s about time, guys.”

 

-

 

_The present…_

 

Conner landed on the balcony and strolled inside a darkened room. This room had served as Jason’s office since they decided to move into one of the apartment building’s bigger suites. In the old days, before Lex and Jason had even begun to see each other romantically, Conner and Jason had shared a smaller, two-room apartment. This equipment had then filled the majority of their old sitting room.

 

It wasn’t as though he felt abandoned by Lex in those days. He had often gone back and forth with his father between Metropolis and Gotham. But, though Lex still traveled a lot, Conner liked their living situation a lot better now.

 

Jason was sitting in the chair in front of his bank of monitoring equipment. An IV stand was attached to the chair, with bags and a series of tubes.

 

The sight, sadly, wasn't unusual: Drugs to mask the lingering pain of his injuries, to replace food and sleep, to patch him up after he'd been caught in the crossfire or gone out himself looking for trouble, and to try and help him regain some of what he'd lost.

 

Conner had seen it all before so the drugs weren't what surprised him. Instead it was the bundle sitting in Jason's lap in the chair. At first he thought it was some sort of doll or giant puppet until his enhanced vision picked up the faint, regular movement of its chest.

 

“Jase?” he asked, his voice soft.

 

“Hm?” His stepfather didn’t look up from the person in his lap.

 

Well, almost his stepfather. Lex and Jason Todd had been dating seriously for about two years—and as far as Conner had been able to discern, it was serious because all of Lex’s other exes had tried to kill him. Conner had only known the last one briefly, then she had tried to shoot Lex for cheating on her—with Jason, who at the time was eighteen. Jason had exchanged gunfire with the ex-wife while Mercy got Lex out of the room, and Conner got his younger siblings to safety. The exchange had ended with intervention from Anthea, though.

 

That was probably what made Jason different, Conner thought. He didn’t want Lex’s money or power. He didn’t try to kill him and had, in fact, protected Lex on a few occasions aside from the crazy ex. And despite being young himself, Jason had treated Conner and his siblings like his own kids. Conner looked roughly sixteen years old now and, having only been out of the lab for five, and he had no idea how Jason felt so responsible when he was still so young himself.

 

Of course, Jason had anger issues, and when he got frustrated about his injuries or stupid people, his first instinct was to either cuss or punch. He’d just calm down with slow, meditative breaths, possibly working out if he was strong enough to make it up to the gym. The rest of the time, he was so mature it was freaky.

 

Despite their closeness in ages—from a certain point of view, anyway—Conner looked up to Jason like he did to Lex. Jason had taken him in without a word, letting Conner live with him because he couldn’t stay in Metropolis all the time. Let him work on missions, and trusted Conner not to mess up. He worried about Conner’s safety when he took care of monsters or giant robots. He kept Conner fed and clothed, gave him advice and homework—because Conner didn’t go to school, and while the information given to him by Cadmus had been extensive, it had lacked certain other disciplines,  Lex and Jason tried to fill the gasps. (For instance, Conner could quote William Blake but lacked the muscle memory of riding bicycles and totally sucked at it.)

 

Plus, Jason loved his father and they made each other happy. There were vague wedding plans.

 

What else could he be but Conner’s stepfather?

 

“What’s going on?” he asked softly.

 

“Joker,” Jason replied shortly.

 

Conner knew what the Joker had done to Jason. Instead of answering his questions outright, Jason had flung a file folder in front of him. The images of Jason’s injuries, the doctor’s notes, were still vivid in his memory.

 

“I’ll kill him,” he promised.

 

Jason snorted. He seemed darkly amused. “Too late. God, I can’t figure out if you sound more like your father or me.”

 

“Oh…” So the Joker was dead. He wanted to ask Jason if he did it, but thought that’d be a better question to direct to Lex. Doing a quick x-ray scan of the rest of their large suite told him that Lex was asleep in the master bedroom, and his siblings were in their own rooms.

 

“Can I do anything?” Conner asked, stepping closer.

 

He got a good look at the boy, and a good whiff, for the first time and forgot to breathe for a minute.

 

Even if his face was bruised and he was noticeably in pain, it was obvious that he was healing. The boy was small in Jason’s lap, and beautiful.

 

He knew who it was, though he had never met him before.

 

Instinctively, he reached out to wrap his aura around the other boy, making him whimper. Conner pulled it back away quickly, afraid he had done more damage.

 

Jason, naturally, knew what he had done. He smiled faintly. “You weren’t hurting him. Remember how it helped Roy when he was hurt? He said it felt like a hot pad.”

 

Conner nodded hesitantly and wrapped his aura around the boy once more. He held his wrist stiff and straight, his shoulder still against his side, also concentrating heat on those areas.

 

The boy whimpered softly and Jason murmured soothingly, telling him he was safe.

 

His eyes fluttered open. “Jase?”

 

“I’m here, baby bird.”

 

Conner inhaled softly as his earlier suspicion was confirmed. _‘Baby bird’_ was the nickname Jason and Dick Grayson gave to their little brother.

 

Jason decided that they needed to get the boy cleaned up. Conner had to follow, as he was currently tied to the boy by his aura, and became very embarrassed as Jason started to undress him.

 

He must have made a noise, because Jason glanced at him in amusement. “Conner. Why don’t you get something for Tim to wear?”

 

Conner nodded and fled. It was only when he was in the spare bedroom he realized that he could stretch his aura that far.

 

He needed to remember to tell his father about it later.

 

Tim. Timothy. Timmy. Conner smiled, his heart beating fast as he looked in the drawers, finding some soft pajamas.

 

He hadn’t met Tim before, but he knew of him, and had smelt his scent around the apartment before. It triggered something instinctive in him.

 

The room was actually not truly a spare. It was made for Jason and Dick’s “little brother,” though he had lived with Bruce Wayne since his adoption. The bed was dressed with red and green sheets, there were clothes in the closet much more stylish than Conner’s own wardrobe, and there were three computers—a PC and two laptops—on the desk.

 

Everything waiting for the day when Jason planned to bring Tim home, Conner thought. As if he had guessed something like this would happen.

 

By the time he returned to the bathroom, Tim was undressed and sitting in his brother’s lap.

 

Conner dropped the pajamas, his hands feeling limp, and stared.

 

Jason looked up, saw him, and smirked. “On the counter please.”

 

Conner hurriedly picked the clothes up and sat them beside the sink, on the small space not occupied by a Tinkerbell toothbrush, an Optimus Prime toothbrush, and a half used tube of Kid’s Crest. There was some debate about who exactly the Ninja Rubber Duckies belonged to, but they were a reminder not to let Lex Luthor shop online without supervision, according to Jason.

 

Conner kept his gaze on the blue ninja ducky, blushing hard. The ducky returned his embarrassed stare with benign little ducky eyes. “Um. Anything else?”

 

“Stay,” Jason said. “Don’t stretch your aura.”

 

He decided not to mention that he had just stretched it pretty far. Just finding it out now would be a little embarrassing after all of the practice he did with Raven and Greta. Roy had complained endlessly about being a guinea pig, Hartley had laughed, and thinking about two attractive guys being gay together wasn’t helping Conner’s train of thought at all because Tim was still naked.

 

Conner kept his eyes on the sink as Jason dressed Tim. It was tempting to peek, but he didn’t, not until Jason nudged him to get out of the way.

 

Conner stepped out of the bathroom to let them pass by. Tim’s hair was still a little matted with blood, but his bruised face was cleaner. His one visible blue eye drooped tiredly.

 

Jason asked him if he wanted more pain medication, but Tim answered in the negative, too tired.

 

“Wanna try bed again?” Jason asked.

 

“’Kay,” said Tim, his head resting on Jason’s shoulder. He looked very small and young.

 

Conner followed them to the guestroom—Tim’s room—where Jason got the small teen into bed. With his aura, Conner helped keep Tim’s injured shoulder and wrist in place. His eyes remained on the other boy as Tim eventually settled into sleep.

 

“Can I stay with him?” he asked Jason softly.

 

Jason turned toward him, looking a little concerned but mostly tired. He would have stayed up with Tim all night. “Sure you want to?”

 

Ko nodded. “I’ll stay in the chair. It’s easier on my aura,” he added, hoping Jason wouldn’t pick up on his real reasons for wanting to stay near.

 

Jason smirked anyway. “Alright.”

 

After his stepfather left, Conner sat up watching Tim sleep restlessly. His aura, cocooned around the small figure in bed, kept him from jostling his injuries. He could do nothing for the nightmares though and, feeling helpless, took hold of Tim’s good hand.

 

Tim’s hand clenched his, probably instinctively, but Conner smiled.

 

-

 

Jason sat up, unable to sleep. Lex came to check on him once to see if he was coming to bed and Jason felt guilty—Lex had traveled an hour by air to return to Gotham from Metropolis, and it was obvious he was still tired, yet they weren’t exactly spending the night together.

 

Lex didn’t argue with him staying up, just bent down to kiss his forehead. “How’s he doing?”

 

“As good as can be expected,” which wasn’t very good, but Tim would live. “Con’s with him.”

 

Lex looked mildly interested, but mostly tired. “Oh?”

 

“I’ll tell you in the morning.” Jason patted Lex’s rear end, too lightly to be a spanking. “Go sleep.”

 

He was sitting in front of some bills, working out this month’s payments for keeping his Watchtower afloat—something that Bruce never had to deal with, the bastard—when he heard coughing from Tim’s room. Jason threw down the pen in his hand and rolled himself quickly back to that part of the apartment.

 

“Tim?”

 

There was a dark figure standing over Tim’s bed. It quickly moved between Tim and Jason, giving the redheaded man a flash of leather in the moonlight and a full face mask.

 

Jason suppressed a sigh at the tense figure. “Cassandra.”

 

Batgirl relaxed. “Jason.”

 

Tim was still coughing. Jason motioned at him meaningfully. “Let me get him some fluids.”

 

Cassandra glanced at Tim, coughing weakly, and sat on the bed beside him. Not too close because apparently Conner had deemed slumping over, with his head on the edge of Tim’s bed, a good way to sleep. Jason sighed and got a glass of water, thinking that he should have made Conner go to his room. The monster had likely taken a lot out of him and he should have been in bed.

 

Jason handed the glass to Cassandra and let the girl help Tim drink. She said little, but her eyes roved over Tim worriedly, and Jason knew she had only broken in because she was worried.

 

(Technically, she didn’t have to; Jason had her put into the security system as a friendly visitor. But if sneaking in made the new Batgirl feel better then Jason was happy to let her. It wasn’t that many people that could get passed the security anyway.)

 

Tim lied back weakly when he was finished with the water. “Hurts,” he rasped.

 

“Want some pain meds now?” Jason asked.

 

Tim nodded reluctantly and took the pills Jason handed him.

 

Jason rubbed Tim’s chest soothingly, cursing Bruce for passing on his stubbornness to Tim. The boy didn’t deserve to put himself through pain just because Batman was slightly psychotic.

 

As Tim began to drift back to sleep, Jason noticed that he and Conner were holding hands. He smiled and let them.

 

Cassandra stayed for a time, watching over Tim, but was gone before the sun rose.

 

-

 

When Tim woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was not at Wayne Manor. The second, though he had a dim memory of her being there, Cassandra was no longer in the room. Third, he heard snoring beside him.

 

Forcing his eye open—the other one hurt too much—he saw the large teen from last night. The boy was half in a chair, half in the bed with him, and drooling a little in addition to the snoring. Despite that, he was still attractive. It was the strong forehead, supermodel-football player hybrid looks.

 

This was Superboy, who had disappeared after his last mission, only to reappear on the scene as Lex Luthor’s legal son. The League hadn’t done much about the situation except to monitor it for a possible threat. Three years later, still not changes, except that the clone was working on Jason Todd’s team under a new alias, Tesla.

 

Then Tim moved and could think of nothing else except the pain.

 

He must have made a noise, because the boy was up and offering him painkillers in an instant. Tim could only blink at him, wondering if he’d lost consciousness or if the boy had super speed.

 

Tim hesitantly raised his good hand to take the pills. His shoulder rebelled, throbbing in pain, but he didn’t want a stranger to feed him. He was stronger than that. Batman expected him to be—

 

_Batman didn’t want him to be Robin anymore._

 

He swallowed the pill, just barely, feeling bile rise in his throat.

 

The boy was rambling nervously from beside him. “I'm Conner. Or Con. Jason's stepson. They were able to give you a blood transfusion from my dad, so you won't get any infections. Nanomachines are doing the rest, so it'll take a little while for you to heal. Not as long as usual, but definitely not immediate.”

 

Tim tried to speak, but suddenly there were a pen and pad in front of him, both objects having flown there from across the room. Telekinesis, he realized dimly.

 

He wrote, slowly with his wrapped wrist, _“Nanomachines?”_

 

Conner nodded. “Dad's had his men working on them after they figured out his blood wasn't doing enough to heal Jason's spine. They've finally been completed, but Jason hasn't gone in for the surgery yet.”

 

Tim frowned. _“Surgery?”_

 

Conner seemed confused but explained how Lex Luthor had worked since Jason was injured on a way to restore his spine. So he could walk again. The surgery, scheduled for next week, would have likely been delayed because Jason would insist on staying with Tim.

 

And Tim couldn’t let that happen.

 

He had Conner call Jason in, who had apparently gotten no sleep. It showed in the puffy skin around his eyes.

 

Tim winced, feeling guilty about this.

 

He was pulled into Jason’s lap, and pressed the issue until he got his big brother to talk about it.

 

“We've also be strengthening my body, particularly my spine, before the surgery. There hasn’t been a set date yet, but we had hoped to get to it soon. Except now that you’re here…”

 

The younger boy shook his head firmly, throat croaking hoarsely as he argued; he didn’t want to stand in the way of Jason’s recovery. It didn’t matter if he was hurt—Jason had been without the use of his legs for a long time.

 

Jason sighed as he cuddled Tim. “It's not like I'm exactly bound to this thing now. Lex built me something to help train, and I can use it in emergencies.”

 

Conner was frowning. “Dad said to be careful with that thing, Jase.”

 

Thing? Tim blinked at Jason curiously.

 

Jason merely smiled wryly at the tall teen. “Thank you, Conner.”

 

Tim was moved back to the bedding and he watched, eyes widening and his throat thick with emotion, not pain, as Jason slowly stood from the chair.

 

He hadn’t seen Jason stand since he was still Robin. The young man was supposed to be mostly immobile from the waist down—now not only had Tim learned that it could be reversed, but that he could stand even before the surgery.

 

Jason explained in a vague manner the device implanted in his back that Luthor had developed for him. It was to help him get stronger for the surgery that would give him full use of his legs again—the device was temporary and he could only use it about once a day, and never for very long.

 

Even that much was more of a miracle than Tim had dared hope for. The idea that someday soon, he might be seeing Jason Todd don a suit again, go out and fight alongside his exceptional team, brought tears to his eyes.

 

“Hey…” Jason reached out and wiped under his eyes, brushing at the tears. “It’s okay, Tim. Nothing to get upset over.”

 

Tim shook his head. “Go,” he urged again, voice still rough. “Please.”

 

“It can wait a few more weeks, Tim. I want to be here for you.”

 

“Please, Jase.”

 

Jason sat back in his wheelchair, rubbing his back. “Shh, don’t strain yourself.”

 

Tim started to cry softly again. Why couldn’t Jason understand how he couldn’t allow himself to be a burden to his family? Especially now.

 

Conner shifted beside him and spoke up. “Jase... We all want you well. Whole. Especially Dad—he’s got so many plans for the future, things he needs you to be strong enough for. Things I know you want him to succeed at. He can’t do any of it if he’s worried about you. And Tim wouldn't get better knowing he was keeping you from doing what you need to do.”

 

Jason looked up at the tall teen for a long time before sighing again. “We’ll see, okay? I have a helluva lot of PT to do even before the surgery, and I need to make sure my other affairs are taken care of while I’m gone in Metropolis.”

 

Tim relaxed. It was a start, anyway. He thought he could convince Jason to start the preparation physical therapy in the next day or so.

 

He also wondered what possible plans Luthor could have that were important enough for Jason to stop being stubborn about his surgery. But if he was staying for awhile—he wasn’t certain about staying with Jason for his entire recovery, not wanting to burden him more than he already was—maybe he would find out.

 

Then he was distracted by more medication, which made him drowsy once more, breakfast, and the youngest of Luthor’s—and Jason’s—children.

 

He was still very small, about four years old, and very shy. He had a head full of curly red hair that matched the pictures he had studied of a young Lex Luthor, before the meteorites. Conner, in comparison, looked much more like Superman—but of course that was the point. Cadmus had decided to clone Superman after everyone believed the Kryptonian to be dead.

 

He wasn’t sure how to deal with the small child. He had never met any of Jason’s step-children before, though Dick often proclaimed their cuteness.

 

His name was Julian. He looked far too sweet and shy to be a Luthor. If not for the red hair and Luthor’s eyes, he would never have guessed.

 

Tim was surprised when the child came in and offered him a stuffed animal—a fuzzy yellow giraffe which was far too cute to be lifelike.

 

“Gaff help,” said the tiny redhead, nudging Tim with the toy until he finally took it.

 

He began to cry again at the show of kindness, hating himself for being so emotional. It was just a toy, but it felt so much more than that. “Thank you, Julian.”

 

Julian crawled on the bed and leaned up on his knees, kissing Tim’s cheek softly. “Kiss better.”

 

Tim sniffed and clutched the giraffe close with the arm that didn’t hurt quite so much, feeling as young as Julian was. “Thank you.”

 

Jason smiled and took Julian with him to eat breakfast. Tim ate in his room, and Conner decided to keep him company, with his large, strangely reassuring presence.

 

He didn’t usually feel so comfortable around people he just met, but there was something about the metahuman that put Tim at ease. It made his eyes well up again and he could only poke at his food, having very little appetite.

 

Conner touched his cheek gently. “It’s okay.”

 

Tim flushed and wiped at his eyes furiously. His fingers hurt—God, his _nails_ —but he didn’t care. “Sorry, just…”

 

But Conner was already shaking his head, his jaw setting in a way that was entirely Luthor, not Kent. “I know it's not the same, but someone once beat me up real bad. I made a mistake during a mission and I was sure I deserved it.”

 

“Superman?” Tim asked softly.

 

That surprised the other teen. “Uh, yeah. How'd you guess?”

 

Tim fidgeted guiltily. “My… mentor,” he hedged. Batman had hammered the need for secrecy into his head. Even now that he was not Robin anymore, he couldn’t say more. “He had me help edit some surveillance footage.”

 

Conner blinked. “Why’d Batman need footage of that?”

 

Tim wondered how much Luthor and Jason had told the teen. “It was a favor…”

 

Clark hadn’t wanted it to end up in the news. Some stations reported on the disturbance, but no one was sure what or who it had been. The League often got in trouble and it didn’t need further embarrassment, Superman had said. He also worried that Luthor would sue him again.

 

Luthor hadn’t sued though. He simply took custody of Superboy, giving him the new identity of Nicholas Conner Luthor, Lex Luthor’s smart and attractive son. The story was that he had been kept out of the public eye for his own safety until three years ago and now was being home schooled.

 

“Oh... So, you know who I was.”

 

Tim nodded slightly, noting the past tense.

 

“Huh.” He didn’t seem overly bothered by it. “Back to what I was saying though—I know now that it wasn’t really my fault.”

 

“I’m glad,” Tim murmured, not knowing what else to say.

 

Conner continued to rub his back. “And it’s not your fault either, yanno?”

 

Tim flushed. “I know,” he managed to say again.

 

The other teen smiled and tried to get him to eat some more, but Tim felt sick to his stomach. He pushed the food away and noticed, blurrily, that the metahuman was levitating a small trashcan in from the adjoining bathroom that Tim didn’t think he asked for. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly through his nose. He didn’t look at the trashcan, because he didn’t want to vomit as well as _cry_ ; he pushed the sickness back down.

 

Breathe, he told himself, breathe.

 

He heard the window open, but Conner didn’t leave his side—he was sitting there, rubbing Tim’s back. Telekinesis again, Tim thought absently. He slowly felt his stomach calm down, the bile going back down, as the smell of food lessoned.

 

“Food or anxiety attack?” Conner asked softly.

 

Tim shook his head. Didn’t want to look weak, didn’t want to be a burden—

 

He felt a sensation, and realized it wasn’t the first time—it was like a hot pad was being wrapped around him, but there was nothing actually there. Just Conner.

 

Tim blinked at him with wet eyes, but Conner only smiled and wiped at his tears. The smaller teen flinched away, mentally cursing this new weakness.

 

He was so much stronger than this. Batman had trained him to be so much stronger than this—

 

“Sorry,” Conner said, pulling away a little. “Need me to get Jase?”

 

Tim shook his head, feeling he had already bothered his big brother enough.

 

But Conner left regardless, taking the food with him. A few moments later, he returned with Jason.

 

Tim curled up in the blankets because that warm sensation was gone, leaving him feeling very cold, his injuries hurting more. Jason climbed out of his wheelchair, using his arms instead of his legs, and sat close in the bed beside him.

 

“It’s okay,” Jason murmured. “We’re gonna take care of you. Just relax.”

 

He felt himself beginning to calm again, his muscles unclenching, the pain receding.

 

“It's alright. You're not unworthy, you're not a burden.”

 

Embarrassingly, he felt himself beginning to cry again, the words striking him like a blow. He didn’t feel deserving of that kindness. “Jase…”

 

Jason continued cuddling and Tim pressed close, despite the strain on his shoulder and wrist—which he knew wasn’t set right, he could feel it—but when his brother announced that a doctor would be coming to see him, he tensed up again.

 

“It’ll be okay. I promise.”

 

Tim nodded, keeping his face hidden in Jason’s chest.

 

-

 

His little brother had fallen into an uneasy sleep until the doctor’s arrival, and then Tim was tense again, flinching and cringing away. He kept Julian’s toy giraffe in his lap, and he held Conner’s hand with his good one.

 

Jason watched worriedly, but even more concerning was Conner’s reaction. The façade of Lex Luthor’s son that the teen wore for strangers fell away, and suddenly he had an angry half-Kryptonian on his hands, his eyes glowing red as Tim’s wrist was reset.

 

Though Conner had never shown any laser ability with his eyes, it was still disconcerting.

 

“Conner!” he scolded sharply in a commanding voice.

 

The teen flinched, and suddenly he was just Conner again. His cheeks flushed and he ducked his head in a clearly submissive gesture. The rage in his expression, his rising battle aura, faded.

 

“Go help your father with the dishes,” he directed in a calmer voice, still worried that Conner may attack the doctor. That kind of incident Lex definitely would have trouble covering up.

 

Conner nodded but hesitated, pausing long enough to press a kiss to Tim’s hand before leaving. The other teen just blinked at them with teary, pained eyes and Jason relaxed—Tim hadn’t noticed the change in the metahuman’s behavior.

 

The clinginess was also worrisome. Jason took his place beside Tim, holding his hand in support, but his thoughts were partly elsewhere.

 

Tim bit his lip, barely holding in a whimper as the doctor finished resetting his arm. He eyed the man warily as he left the room. The doctor wasn’t unkind, but Tim probably would have distrusted any strangers at this point.

 

“It had to be set or it would not heal correctly,” Jason told him, knowing he wasn’t saying anything Tim wouldn’t know.

 

Tim pouted, holding his wrist to his chest, and Jason sighed.

 

He followed the doctor out and sent Kon back into the room before the teen could get angry again.

 

First, figure out if Tim’s treatment needed adjusting—then figure out what was going on with Conner.

 

-

 

Conner returned to Tim’s bedroom, finding him once more wrapped in the blankets. He immediately wrapped his warm aura back around him, not having realized that he lost control over it again.

 

When Raven found out about this lapse, he was gonna get double the training time, he knew.

 

Tim lifted his head just a little, tousled black hair sticking up adorably against the pristine white sheets.

 

“Okay?” Conner asked cautiously.

 

“No,” Tim whispered.

 

Conner growled. “I’ll kill him.”

 

Tim whimpered, looking afraid, and Conner drew closer worriedly as the other teen reached for his hand again.

 

Their fingers threaded loosely and Conner focused his aura on Tim’s wrist, knowing it must have hurt the most at the moment. He kissed Tim’s good hand, lightly on his bruised knuckles, and Tim flushed. He could feel him start to relax.

 

“It’s okay,” Conner murmured, trying to be as comforting as Jason and Lex were. They were so good with Julian and Lena after they had a nightmare—which they had occasionally. They had been around when Julian’s mom went crazy and tried to kill Lex. He didn’t think he could ever forgive the woman for that.

 

“No killing,” Tim rasped firmly.

 

He frowned but nodded. “Okay.”

 

He asked if there was anything Tim needed or wanted, but the other boy wouldn’t answer, though it looked like he wanted to say something.

 

“Hm?” he prodded gently.

 

Tim took a deep breath and squeezed their entangled hands—firmly. He met Conner’s eyes with an earnest, meaningful stare.

 

It took a few more minutes of staring into his eyes for Conner to finally get it, but he did. “Oh…” He smiled and squeezed Tim’s hand in return.

 

Tim just wanted him to stay.

 

The small teen rested back against the pillows with a shy smile. Conner made sure Gaff was tucked in with him as Tim started to fall asleep. He stayed near, because it was what Tim wanted, and because he wanted to protect the other boy.

 

Jason entered with supplies and what was clearly more medicine, and Conner frowned. But instead of immediately going to Tim, Jason rolled over to him instead, and began explaining what the doctor said in a quiet tone.

 

“Tim is detoxing off of a drug likely containing opium. The doctor proscribed a different medication, that we have in supplies, which should help the pain and the anxiety attacks. Okay?”

 

His stepfather was asking permission before giving Tim the new medicine— _Clonidine_ , he read from the label. “Will it hurt?”

 

“No, no—but if we don’t, he’ll keep on like he is, and that could endanger him. We’ll have to watch him carefully either way, understand?”

 

Conner nodded. He had heard the horror stories from Roy about what he had gone through as a kid. Even though the redheaded archer had been clearly addicted to drugs, and Tim wasn’t, he felt it still applied. It was going to be rough.

 

Jason got the new IV bag, with the Clonidine, set up. He explained everything to Conner as he did, to which the teen was grateful. He listened carefully and continued to hold Tim’s hand. Tim never stirred during any of this, finally slipping into an exhausted slumber.

 

“You okay?” Jason asked softly when he was finished.

 

Conner blinked at him curiously. Of course he was; he wasn’t the one beaten up by an arch villain.

 

Jason smiled slightly and petted his dark hair. “Yes, I mean you.”

 

The teen blushed. “Not mad at me?”

 

“No.”

 

Conner smiled back until Jason asked his next quarry.

 

“What does Tim smell like?”

 

Conner blushed brightly and looked away—he had really hoped Jason wouldn’t notice. “Er…”

 

“Conner.”

 

He met the older man’s eyes hesitantly. “He smells like I thought Dick smelled like before.”

 

That had been a thing. During one occasion, Dick had come over smelling—just incredible. Conner had practically floated around the building for days, feeling incredibly happy, crushing on Dick heavily—until his next visit. Dick had smelled entirely different, more like normal, and his crush dissolved into confusion.

 

Then on another occasion, they had another visitor, though Conner didn’t meet him. He smelled that smell again and _knew_.

 

“Like Dick did when he made you hungry?”

 

Conner nodded, embarrassed. “But stronger.” And it wasn’t just the hunger. He couldn’t describe in words how Tim made him feel like he was always missing something, until now.

 

“So he makes you hungry too?”

 

“And protective.” And so many other things. There were just no words.

 

“You know he can't do anything right now,” Jason said after a moment.

 

“I know!” Conner whispered heatedly, embarrassment growing.

 

“Just making sure.”

 

Conner pouted. “Don't even know if he'll want to later.”

 

Jason ruffled his hair gently. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, kiddo.” Conner blushed more and the man laughed softly. “Be good. Let us know if there's a problem. Swear.”

 

Conner nodded firmly. It went without saying. “I won’t hurt your brother, Jase.”

 

“And don’t get hurt yourself,” Jason said.

 

When Conner just shrugged, feeling uncomfortable, Jason frowned and swatted at him lightly.

 

“Don’t. You matter too, Con.”

 

He managed a smile. “Okay.”

 

“Good. Are you going to eat lunch?”

 

“Sure. Later.” He had missed breakfast but he didn’t even feel hungry.

 

He wheeled out and Conner continued to stay with Tim—right where he wanted to be.

 

~ End of this part! ~

 


End file.
